


History

by oh_johnny



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_johnny/pseuds/oh_johnny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The history of John and Paul, told in five parts, all together in one here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the many fics I wrote that were posted on lj at johnheartpaul. I will be going through and copying my favourites here, having left that comm a few years ago. I think this is one of my best.

i.

John is on top of the world, guitar clutched tightly in his hands, belting out Elvis to the crowd, hips rocking, feet dancing, laughing with the boys, ogling the pretty girls, happiest he’s ever been. Sixteen fucking years old and king of the bloody world! This, this, is what he is meant to do with his life, where he is meant to be, and nobody can tell him any different.

Set over they go back to the beer tent, throwing back lager like it was water, wiping the sweat away with their shirts. He spots Ivan on the other side and calls him over, drapes an arm over him in beery camaraderie, barely noticing the boy beside him.

“John, this is Paul. He plays guitar, too.”

“Does he now, such a little boy? And all on his own? Well, Paulie, let’s hear you play. See if you’re any good. See if you’re as good as John Lennon, eh?” he says, looking around at his mates for confirmation of his wit. 

Paul says nothing but settles the guitar on his knee and starts to play some Elvis. 

“Not bad,” says John, “You know anything else good?”

Paul smiles and breaks into “Twenty Flight Rock”. John stops and listens this time, noticing that the boy really can play and, more importantly, knows all the words. None of them know all the words, can’t be arsed to learn them, but this boy with the pretty face is cranking out Eddie Cochran like he was born to it. Impressed in spite of himself, John starts to sing along, at least the bits he knows, and begins to play a little too. Soon they’re jamming in the beer tent, an impromptu concert, the girls coming around and paying attention, until it’s time for the next set.

He’s completely taken by this new boy, by his voice and his guitar – and it seems the girls are drawn to him, too, that can’t be bad – so, while he tries hard to play it cool he can’t hide the excitement in his voice when he checks that Ivan will know where to find this boy if he’s wanted again.

He can’t sleep that night, so wound up from the gig and the high of playing for a real audience and he can’t stop thinking about the pretty boy, can’t stop thinking about how fucking great the band would be with him in it, and in the morning he sends out a message – would Paul like to join the group?

***

Most of their evenings are spent at Paul’s house, Mimi having no time for “that noise” as she calls their music, and Jim having more of a boys will be boys attitude to life. Most evenings go the same way – radio tuned to Radio Luxemburg, pulling in a very staticky signal, both boys with their ears to the speaker trying to catch the notes, then trying to recreate the songs on their beat up guitars. Eventually Jim calls lights out, and they lie in the dark, one on the bed, the other on the floor, and talk about girls. John has been dating Barbara for a while, all hot and heavy, and Paul is making a go of it with Celia, and they talk of knickers and tits and the feel of thigh at the top of a stocking and the fastest way to undo a bra and the evil of girdles and eventually all is quiet except for ragged breathing and the sound of hands doing their work.

 

Art College makes some changes. Stu, for one. John is taken with Stu, with his Bohemian attitudes and his art. He’s the first bloke John has met who’s actually cooler than he, and he starts spending more and more time with him. 

Paul, feeling left out somehow, starts bringing George around, as if to show that he, too, can have friends with impossible cheekbones who ooze cool. 

Eventually George joins the group and The Quarrymen start to get gigs. It remains their strongest bond, the push-pull of Stuart Sutcliffe aside, this belief that music would be their salvation.

***

Paul can’t get to John’s house fast enough, cursing the bus system and eventually just running most of the way.

John just sort of falls into him when he sees him, sobbing in his arms. They collapse on the floor of John’s bedroom, Paul holding onto him as tightly as he can. John hasn’t cried with anyone else, his grief turning to anger and twisted humour, but Paul, he knows, understands this in a way no one else of his acquaintance can.

When he starts to shiver Paul pulls the blanket off the bed and covers them both, holding him through the night.

***

Gigs start to come their way, slowly but often enough that school seems like more and more of a drag. Who wants to write A-Levels when they could be the next Elvis?

Girls start to come their way, too, though they both have steadies. Still, a little friendly finger fuck with a willing fan never goes amiss.

Then Dot’s pregnant and Paul needs to find a real job and all John can think is “How could you do this to me, you fucker?” and he turns more and more to spending his time with Stuart.

When Paul tells him she’s lost the baby he doesn’t say all the things he wants to, but the two of them share a look and he knows that Paul’s feeling the same way he is, and it’s back to business.

***

Hamburg is all bright lights and loud noise and sex and booze and drugs and life lived almost entirely at night. Stuart’s presence continues to annoy Paul, though he covers it as being bad for the band. John doesn’t care. Stuart adds attitude, cool, and people are coming around to look at him and incidentally to hear the rest of them and that’s all John cares about. Music. 

They get sloppy drunk way too often and carry each other home way too often and end up collapsed in the same bed way too often but they don’t care. They’re young and far from home and completely comfortable with each other and the nights they share a bird or, better yet, two birds, are, though they don’t speak of it, the best of times.

Cyn comes to visit and Dot comes to visit and they pretend they’re normal but the truth is they’re moving further and further away from the life they grew up with, moving into the realm of Elvis and Little Richard and Buddy Holly, into the world of easy sex and loose women and now the talk at night isn’t about how to get around a girdle but who gives the best blow jobs and how to get rid of the birds so you can get a decent night’s sleep and they no longer fall asleep listening to each other jerk off because there are always girls with willing mouths who make jerking off unnecessary.

And it’s back and forth, Liverpool and Hamburg, audiences growing and an actual holy fuck fan base for Christ’s sake and Stuart leaves and John’s angry and Paul triumphant and they get better and better all the time. Then one day…

Paul just grabs him and holds on, the way he did once before, folds him into his arms and rocks him, giving him the chance to cry. But this time John doesn’t cry. This time John pulls back from Paul and grabs him by the collar and closes the gap between them until his face is right up against Paul’s and screams into his face, “You ever fucking die and leave me, you fucker, and I’ll fucking kill you. You hear me? Don’t you ever fucking die. I won’t fucking stand for it.”

And Paul kisses him. Just plants one on him right there. Their faces so close his brain is addled and he doesn’t know what to do about John and his breath is hot on his face and yelling at him and he can’t fucking think…so he kisses him. And John kisses back. 

And now what the fuck are they supposed to do?

=================================================================

ii.

 

Things start taking off, really taking off. There’s a recording contract and talk of a single and they’re down in London all the time taking care of business. Pete’s gone and Ringo’s in and they’re getting tighter as a band all the damn time and things just can’t get any better.

And Cyn’s pregnant. And they share that look again, the one that says everything while they say nothing and John says that he’s a fucking musician now and no baby’s going to change that and of course he’ll marry the girl, no fucking choice really but it doesn’t change anything. Got it? And Paul nods and smiles and turns back to the music.

And then it’s touring. Back in Hamburg, through Scotland, around Britain, crowds growing, writing more and more and more, headlining at last, toppermost of the poppermost.

And all the while there’s this nagging little thing in the back of their heads, a little something that stops them every time they start to get close, pulls them away from each other. No longer collapsing in the same bed at night from sheer exhaustion. No longer carrying each other home. John rooms with George, Paul with Ringo, letting them come up with their own explanations for the change, growing farther away from each other even as they get closer and closer, not talking about it, never saying anything but they know, they both know, it’s there between them and neither has satisfactorily answered the question of what they fuck they’re supposed to do now.

***

America. Fucking America with its screaming girls and press everywhere and hotel room after hotel room that they can’t get out of and Cynthia’s there with them and John’s being attentive to her, at least for a while, but they’re young and they’re on top of the fucking world and there’s nothing they can’t have if they want it so they start drinking after the shows and spend their nights shooting the shit and going off on the girls that they’ve seen and the talk is like it was before, did you see those tits holy shit what I wouldn’t give to fuck them and she went down on her knees before I even asked, and the girls pass from one to the other and they take what they want casually, Cyn sleeping in the next room, they don’t care, they’re fucking stars and that’s what they’re supposed to do now.

***

Then one night there’s one girl between them, literally fucking between them, Paul on the bottom, John on top, girl sprawled between them, legs splayed over Paul’s, he’s got his knees bent, spread apart, spreading her for John, John inside her between Paul’s thighs can feel Paul’s prick rubbing against him, can feel Paul’s hands on her tits pressing into him as well and he’s close, so close, and he leans over her shoulder and finds Paul’s mouth and there it is, his dick in the girl his tongue in Paul and he comes so fucking hard he can’t fucking see.

Paul escorts her to the door and sends her on her way then closes the door behind her and turns to look at John spread out on the bed. John smiles and Paul smiles and Paul sits on the bed and John reaches for him and they kiss again, this time for real for certain knowing what they’re doing, both thinking clearly, nobody else in the way, no girl no Stuart, just the two of them, the way it’s supposed to be, the way it was always meant to be and when it’s over, when they’re done, they look at each other and finally, finally, they talk.

 

==============================================================

iii.

**Author's Notes** : _So what does George think of all this? This is in past tense - George looking back on part of it. Think of it as part of Anthology._

 

I knew. Of course I knew. Not right away, I guess, but it became glaringly obvious, long before they decided to tell us. I mean, first it was the touching. Oh, nothing obvious, but it’d be John sticking his finger in Paul’s ear at a press conference, or Paul going into John’s pocket looking for ciggies, or suddenly they’re playing fucking Leap Frog for Christ’s sake. All very innocent, sure, but then one day we’re sitting at a press conference and I look down and John’s hand is on Paul’s knee, his fucking knee, and then it all clicked into place.

I didn’t know what to think, really. I mean, it was one thing having Brian around, but he was really in the closet about being queer, we never had to deal with it. And I guess John and Paul were too. They didn’t exactly swan around and bat eyelashes at each other. But then, they didn’t exactly not, either. But, you know, whatever gets you through the night, as the man said. And he should know. What got him through the night was apparently Paul’s dick in his mouth but again, who am I to judge? 

I thought it was hard on the girls, though, you know. They kept it to the road, I think, not at home. At home John was with Cyn and Paul was with Jane and I think they kept it like that. But they must have found it tough going. I think that’s why we were on the road so damn much, in spite of what anyone says. I’m damn sure it’s why we stayed out touring as long as we did. I’d have been happy if we’d finished up after Help!, but Paul wanted to keep going, and John did whatever Paul wanted.

That was the weird bit, you know? John doing what Paul wanted. Letting him have the A-side, not fighting for leadership of the group any more, fucking letting Paul do whatever he wanted on the songs. I’m sure that’s why I never got a look in with my songs, not bending over for John.

Though, come to think of it, the one time I walked in on them it was John bending over for Paul. That threw me, never really expected John to want it that way.

That was after they’d told us, by the way, good thing too – imagine walking in on that little scene and having that be your first idea of goings-on! No, they told us one night when we all got drunk, snowed in or fogged in or something. Anyway, captive audience. Well, and what can you say? Don’t fucking come near me, mate? We wished them well and raised eyebrows at each other and left them to it, the two of us giggling our way down the hall to our room.

When the touring finally ended, when even Paul had to admit that it had to end, I guess I thought it would all end too. They’d go back to wife and girlfriend and be normal again. And they tried, I think, for a while at least. But anyone could see, just looking at them, they were miserable without it, without each other. 

All a great bloody tragedy, really, isn’t it? When you think about it? Poor buggers. No wonder the whole fucking thing blew up. 

==============================================================

iv.

 

So it’s home and no more touring and there’s movie making and other projects but they need each other, hunger for each other, can’t get enough and so they find ways, they’ve got to be together, a stolen night here a kiss there up against the wall sometimes just have to touch hold feel each other and they lie to the girls and they lie to each other, it can go on it will go on nothing needs to change ever. Ever.

A November day and a trip to a gallery and hammer against nail and up a ladder and the whole world starts to tilt, slowly at first unnoticed at first, she’s just another bird there have been so many birds over the years. There’s another bird, met in a pub, camera in hand and she’s just another bird as well, nobody special, nobody to worry about, nobody to come between them, nothing can come between them.

Then Brian’s gone and Paul panics and tries to make decisions and John can’t be bothered let’s just let it flow let it go be natural let’s expand our minds and the whole thing will work out in the end. And they go to India and sit on the floor and chant and groove and make music but Paul just can’t let it go needs to go back and make sure all is well and John stays, stays with George and just grooves for a while and Paul, well Paul sits back and watches and says nothing because business is business. 

India makes John realize things about his life and Cyn’s gone and Yoko’s there and Yoko’s always bloody there and Paul can’t get a look in so much for time alone with each other can’t even fucking play guitars alone never mind anything else.

And it all starts to break down. They can’t touch and when they can’t touch they can’t talk always been like that have to be naked to speak truth sometimes can say it in song but what comes into the songs now is frustration and rage and hurt and jealousy and all the negative shit that Yoko and now Linda are making them feel. Not each other, they love each other, always have, but they can’t say it any more they can’t express it any more and they don’t, either of them, know enough to just know without it being said.

It gets worse and worse. John leaves with Yoko and goes around the world in a bag and a bed and Paul heads to the farm and starts making babies. They keep it out of the press as long as they can but people start to talk to realize that it’s not well it can’t be well and they still can’t fucking talk to each other it’s gone so far, so far from what they had what they wanted what either of them even intended and when the lawyers come in John walks out and that’s it. It’s over. 

And they cry.

===========================================================

v.

 

Whatever talking they need to do to each other they don’t do in person anymore. Now they talk to the reporters and words fly across the ocean and sting he can’t believe he would say such things. Then John imagines and Paul’s amazed and they discover life goes on without each other without their music there are other things to say and do and it’s all business between them now and they’re fine with it, all grown up now leaving childish things behind.

Then John’s weekend turns into years and Paul comes by and they see each other for the first time and can’t help it they hug and hold on tight old friends, not like it used to be, no never like it used to be, that’s passed didn’t George say all things must and they know that but it’s okay really they’ve got each other back.

Phone lines buzz and they talk sometimes they yell can’t get rid of that entirely but most of the time they’re civil and sometimes it’s like the old times, the old old times, the times before when they’d lie on the bed on the floor in the dark and talk about what if. And John has a child and this time he doesn’t fly off to Spain but stays and tends and they have something else they can talk about now something to be friends over making cups of tea as they pour out the cereal and chat about the inconsequential things that make up life that make it precious. Finally, finally, they’ve reached a point where they can talk with their clothes on.

Soon, too soon, John climbs back on the merry-go-round and the music is good even Paul approves and the publicity wheels start to turn and the photos are taken and the interviews done and he tries to say what he could never say before that maybe Paul was important in his life and that he really does appreciate him you know and the press nod and say what they want and Paul, well Paul doesn’t always hear it but John’s trying you know and that’s what’s important here, right?

And it’s a long long day and the interview goes on for ages and the photo shoot and then they go to the studio because the muse is buzzing in his ear all this stuff he wants to has to say and get down and on the way home he stops and signs an autograph and turns his back and across the ocean across the universe Paul screams out no no no no NO!

Such a drag.


End file.
